


saudade

by Nearly



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But I'm not sorry, Jack Zimmermann-mentioned, Kent is sad but he figures it out, Light Angst, M/M, Parswoops, Sad Kent Parson, Sort Of, it's cheesy and cliche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:28:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearly/pseuds/Nearly
Summary: saudade; (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost.aka, Kent gets sad about the Stanley cup kiss, and Jeff kind-of makes it better.





	saudade

**Author's Note:**

> this is entirely self indulgent and barely edited, so have fun with 1k+ words of pure cliche cheesiness! drop a comment at the bottom if you like <3

The clip of Jack kissing his college boyfriend on center ice is playing on every screen in every bar Kent goes to. They've got it on a loop, and Kent wishes they would turn it off but it's looping in his head too and he can't get away from that, not without being very, _very_ drunk. 

He's already been to three bars, trying to find one that isn't focused on hockey news, but it's the Stanley Cup win, so who isn't? Jeff is trailing along like a chaperone, which is probably good, because Kent has stopped for a drink or two in each of those bars, and it's starting to seem like he's already far gone enough that the stupid video won't matter by the next one. He hopes it won't. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters when he glances in the window of another pub, only to find it filled with screens too. 

“Parse,” Jeff starts from behind him, a concerned note in his voice, “Let’s just grab a cab to your apartment, alright?”

“I need tequila, Swoops, not a mother hen,” Kent sneers. He feels a little bad about it, but a fresh wave of bitter self-pity drowns it out as he reaches for the pub doors. Jeff, for his part, takes it in stride. Kent supposes they’ve been friends long enough for Jeff to know he doesn’t mean it, and he’s grateful, because he’s not sure he could manage a proper apology right now. 

“Jesus, Parser,” Jeff says, but follows him inside anyway. “If you get alcohol poisoning, I’m not explaining that shit to the coaches.”

They’d left the rest of the Aces in bar number one, where Carly was probably still talking and the rest were probably still laughing along to his homophobic bullshit, and it was all just too much. Why couldn’t he have a team that was accepting? A team like-- A team like Jack’s must be, if he could come out like that, look so comfortable and so in love and not even _care--_

Kent orders two shots from the bartender and knocks them back, one-two. He orders another drink right after, because why not. Jeff orders his own and grabs both, then steers Kent away from the bar towards an actual seat, herding him into the booth in the corner. It feels a little like when Kent herds Kit out of his way, except with more stumbling and cursing. Probably more cursing? Kent doesn’t speak cat, so for all he knows she’s swearing up a storm whenever she meows at him. 

Kent slumps a bit when he sits, curling both hands around his drink when Jeff sets it in front of him. He feels miserable and he’s not even sure why, really. At first he thought it was Jack, but he’s not in love with Jack any more. He’s known that for a while now. Since he realized that Jack didn’t want him and that maybe it didn’t matter, because he had his best friend right here and maybe Kent wanted _him._ So it’s not Jack. In all honesty, Kent is happy for him. He’s glad Jack gets the pretty blond he’s clearly head over heels for, and he’s happy that Jack is happy. So why the hell is he still so bitter? 

“Earth to Parser,” Jeff is saying when Kent tunes back in. He’s been letting Kent do his own thing, mostly, but now he looks concerned all over again, and Kent hates that look. His eyes get sad and his brow creases and his mouth curls into a little frown, and it’s not fair that a grown man can look that adorable when he’s worried, and… wow. That’s something that Kent has been avoiding thinking about. 

“You want me to ask them to turn it off, bud?” Jeff asks, more gently than Kent feels like he deserves. And if he’s really looking pathetic enough to warrant Jeff calling him _bud_ , like he does with the kids that come in for family skate, he should probably try to get his shit together. He pulls himself up, leans back, and drains the rest of his drink in one go. 

“No,” Kent says, “I’m fine.” Or he’s getting there. At least, he’s trying, but then he glances back up at the screen as he puts his glass down and something twists in his gut, and he kind of feels like he wants to cry. Which he’s not going to do in front of an entire pub, no thank you. 

“Let’s just go,” he mutters quickly and stands, fumbling to slam some cash on the table and make a beeline for the door. Jeff startles at his sudden exit and barely manages to keep up. They make it halfway down the sidewalk in a rush before Jeff catches Kent’s arm and pulls him to a stop, right beside some little coffee shop closed up for the night. 

“Kent, come on,” he pleads, “talk to me.” He isn’t letting go of Kent’s arm. And he’s using Kent’s real name, which he only does when he’s being serious. And he’s standing there looking so damn earnest that it kind of hits Kent all at once; he wants what Jack has. Not Jack himself, but that loving look he’s got in the clip that’s still looping through Kent’s head, and the matching adoration in his boyfriend’s eyes as he looks up at him. And he wants it with _Jeff Troy._ The feeling he’d been pushing away at the bar comes back and he just lets it all out, in a rush, because Jeff is still looking at him like that and he can’t handle it. 

“I want that,” he blurts, and then scrambles to explain himself. “I mean-- not Jack. It’s not about Jack any more.” Jeff knows about Jack, about what used to be JackAndKent, because Kent is surprisingly terrible at keeping secrets from his best friend. He’d come out to him a year or so ago, and he’d ended up just telling the whole story. It was a bit of a mess. 

“I just,” Kent pauses and struggles for the right words, his brain a bit of a jumble after a few too many drinks. “I want to be able to do that. To kiss another man on national television and not worry about what anyone else thinks, or how it’s going to affect the team, or whether or not I’ll lose my job over it, or…” He trails off, and Jeff just sighs. 

“Yeah,” he says simply. “Me too.” Kent realizes he’s still holding his arm, and he’s a little too aware of his touch. Jeff notices him noticing, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“Swoops…” Kent breathes, “I want that. With you.” He’s hesitant, unsure, but then Jeff slides his hand down to join it with Kent’s, and tangles their fingers together. It's a tiny gesture, barely anything, but it's everything. Because Kent might be terrible at keeping secrets from Jeff, but Jeff is just as terrible at keeping them from him.

They can’t do anything here, in the middle of the sidewalk, because they’re not lucky enough to have a team like Jack’s. Jeff slips his hand out of Kent’s, and Kent has the sudden irrational feeling that he's read this all wrong, but Jeff just tips his head towards the road and says, "How about we grab that cab to your apartment, now?" Kent grins at him, and Jeff's answering grin is blinding. 

It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but Kent thinks that if he gets this, he can handle the rest. He can deal with Jack kissing his tiny blond on T.V., he can handle Carly and his homophobic bullshit, just as long as he gets to wake up next to his best friend every morning. They'll figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> ...told you it was cheesy. 
> 
> follow me on tumblr at nearly-writes :)


End file.
